Letters
by Exagie
Summary: She couldn't be replaced when she was to die. That was something all of Wonderland knew. Even he understood this. And she wouldn't be; no one can replace Alice. But that didn't mean he couldn't give her a choice.
1. The Discovery

_**Letters **_

_She couldn't be replaced when she was to die. That was something all of Wonderland knew. Even he understood this. And she wouldn't be; no one can replace Alice. But that didn't mean he couldn't give her a choice._

**1. The Discovery**

Wonderland never had a foreigner like Alice before. No other girl could dare to compete with the sixteen-year-old. No skin was ever so fair- smile ever so genuine. No other woman held the posture Alice worked, or the admiration for life as she. No hair was ever more fine or glossy, nor the shimmering teal orbs that could carry a thousand smiles and a thousand sorrows at once. Her smile- oh, that beautiful smile- was there ever such words to compare to those glimmering pearly whites she flashed about? When she gave you even the tiniest smirk, it was if a million stars had lit up in the sky.

Alice was the most wonderfully strange girl any man in Wonderland had ever had the pleasure of meeting. They didn't love her because she was a foreigner anymore. Alice was Alice, and they loved her just for being herself.

No one could believe the day that Miss Alice Liddell had been murdered.

* * *

"Julius! Julius~!" a female voice called loudly, echoing off of the pale green walls of the Clock Tower. The clockmaker smiled softly to himself from his desk, but quickly wiped the grin off as the woman glided across from him.

A small, petite frame appeared across from the navy-haired man. She wasn't a midget, but certainly not nearly as tall as the mortician. Her long, flowing brunette locks had been messily piled into a bun at the top of her head; several pearly pins messed around in her hair rather than keeping it in place. The long white gown that fit itself snugly against her pale form had a few rips along the glittered skirt, followed by several dust marks.

Julius rose an eyebrow at her tattered appearance, arising slowly from his chair to analyze her further. With one finger, he gestured closer, and Alice complied; pursing her lips sheepishly as he had her spin around to show what damage she'd done to her clothes.

The mortician sighed, one hand gripping his navy locks in exhaustion. "Tsk. You would think a queen would be more graceful."

Alice pouted, crossing her arms childishly in front of her chest. Julius inwardly chuckled at her expression, pulling out the rest of the crooked pins in her hair so the locks could flow- much to her relief- back in place.

"Julius, I wanted to ask you about something." the brunette spoke up, her teal eyes questionably staring up into the clockmaker's. The navy-haired man rose an eyebrow.

"What is it?" he asked, arms crossed in front of his chest. Alice slipped his hand in hers, tugging towards the staircase.

"It's something I found in the attic." she explained, unsuccessfully trying to pry him from his work.

"What were you doing in the attic?" Julius demanded curiously, complying with her weak pulls towards the stone steps. Alice smiled briefly in his agreeing actions before quickly composing her expression.

"I was bored." she replied simply, frowning a little. "I thought queens were supposed to have a bunch of duties like Vivaldi does, but no one ever wants me to _do_ anything!"

Julius looked away almost guiltily, secretly pleased that Alice was facing away so she couldn't see his knowing expression. He surely knew _why _no one let the young lady perform any tasks and do as she pleased, but that didn't mean Alice had to know. It had been a secret for a year or so now; the young miss was the only one left out. Of course, not everyone needed to know the truth, right? Secrets were the way of Wonderland. Even Alice had secrets of her own… even if she didn't know them herself.

"So what did you find in the attic?" the mortician was quick to change the subject, feeling uneasy with her choice of topic. The queen paused at the end of the last hallway, jumping up to reach the small wire cord that hung from the ceiling. Julius leaned forward, gladly pulling down the stairs for her.

"Thank you." She said kindly with a smile.

"Sure." Julius mumbled, glancing away. Alice chuckled.

"These old boxes." the brunette continued, gently removing her white heels so her bare feet could step upon the creaky oak boards without falling over. Julius followed behind, now understanding why her gown was so torn as she tried to squeeze it through the hole to the attic. It wasn't exactly made for ball gowns.

"Old boxes?" the clockmaker questioned, his stomach doing a small twist as the foreigner crawled into the dusty area- allowing him to follow easily behind. He had a bad gut feeling about this; something just didn't seem right.

The attic was a dark, secluded place in the clock tower. Oak floorboards were covered in excessive amounts of dust bunnies, proving how it had been neglecting a clean-up. Stone walls provided cold air that sent chills down their spines and goose bumps on the back of their necks. The air was clouded with small particles of dust and mold formed itself in the corners of the rooms, sending a musty smell in the room. A few small, round windows tinted in blue rested on either side of the tower, proving little light. What Alice found so interesting up here was beyond him.

Alice nodded vigorously, tripping over a few old pieces of white-clothed furniture before pulling out two weak, moist cardboard boxes from the ground; struggling to carry them over, for her gown was getting in the way. Julius climbed over the future to her side, helping her lift the items.

He quickly dropped them back down.

Alice jumped at the thud from the contact made when the box hit the floor, and quickly turned to Julius in worry. "Julius! Are you alright?"

"We're leaving." the mortician said sternly, his voice suddenly dark as he grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her towards the ladder.

"W-Wait! Julius! Ow! Stop, that hurts!" Alice complained, trying to pull her arm free but the clockmaker refused to let go, continuing to pull her to the stairs. "Julius, please! What's going on? Julius!"

The clockmaker stopped abruptly in front of the steps, causing the queen to stumble lightly into his back. Alice glared up at him. "Julius, what's your problem?"

Julius spun around to face the girl, causing the queen to flinch at his harsh expression. His voice was low and stern; his navy eyes glaring. "I don't want you coming up here anymore, is that understood?"

"But-but that's not fair, Julius!" Alice complained, her eyebrows knitting into a v-shape unpleasantly. "I'm a queen, aren't I? So shouldn't I be able to go and do what I want?"

"If that's what you think a queen is, then you certainly need more growing up." the mortician argued coldly. Alice stamped her foot noisily on the ground, flinching a little as she felt a splinter dive itself into her skin. She'd have to pull it out later.

"I am not a child!" the queen retorted, yanking her wrist finally from his grip. Julius crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You sure are acting like one." Julius replied curtly. Alice's eyes narrowed, angry tears brimming at her eyes.

"I wouldn't be acting like one if you'd just tell me why you're so persistent on us leaving! Damn it, Julius. I don't like you keeping secrets from me! I thought we were friends!" Alice cried in frustration, saltwater droplets caressing her flushed cheeks as they made a trail from her eyes.

Julius stumbled a step backwards- almost falling through the hole as he did so- at the sight of her saddened face, holding up an arm as if to shield himself from it. "W-We are! Alice… Please don't cry. I'm not very good with that type of stuff."

"Well I'm so sorry if I'm inconveniencing you!" the brunette snapped sarcastically, shoving the man away so she could run down the stairs, away from the man.

"Alice, wait! That's not what I meant!" Julius called after her, but the queen was already rushing back to her room; soft sobs echoing through the hall as she disappeared from his sight.

* * *

When the time changed to night, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that it was dark outside when she glanced at her window, and eventually turned her lamp on so she could see.

The brunette wept quietly in her room, stuffing a pillow against her face to muffle her sobs. Tears stained the cotton, but she didn't care. Something didn't feel right, and it scared her. Crying in front of Julius… she had never done it before, and yet she felt a sense of deja vu to the scene. Where had she felt that feeling before…?

"Alice?" Julius's voice sounded distant through the door, but Alice could make it out easily.

"Go away." the queen mumbled weakly, clutching the pillow tighter against her body. She went ignored, and the clicking of her door sounded as Julius stepped in. Part of her didn't mind it all that much.

She could feel a weight press itself behind her, followed by the sound of springs. Alice refused to turn over, even when he lightly brushed her hair away from her face.

"I'm sorry." he apologized quietly and unsurely. Julius was never good with women. No, that was a lie. He wasn't good with _Alice- especially _when she cried.

"About what? Yelling at me? Dragging me out of there?" Alice clutched her pillow tighter, a wave of anger flashing across her features. "Or for keeping secrets?"

Julius thought it over, and not wanting to upset her again, replied, "All three."

"…Why did those letters have my name on them?" the brunette asked after a moment, finally allowing her gaze to meet the mortician's. Julius frowned gravely at the girl, his fingers continuing to brush through her hair.

"How many did you read?" he asked slowly, a twisting motion pulling at his stomach. He knew the game was up, but he didn't want it to end. He'd wished it would never end. Not everything was fed in his favor, though, was it? He was lucky enough to have this girl again, lying underneath his touch; breathing. _Living. _He couldn't imagine anything better.

"I only read the front." Alice assured him, her tone still low and saddened, as if it held great grief. "They all had my name on them… Why?"

Julius looked away, frowning. Alice sat up, her eyebrows pushing into a v-shape as she scrubbed her tears away; her voice evening. "Julius, what are you hiding from me?" Her hand shaking gripped the sleeve to his jacket, a frightening feeling crawling over her. "Julius, please tell me. You're scaring me."

Julius's eyes met hers again, and he carefully pulled her against his chest; one hand running through her hair. Alice blinked in confusion, but nestled in his arms until she was comfortable. "I don't intend to scare you."

"Then just tell me the truth." Alice whispered against his jacket, pressing her face against his chest. Julius sighed, arising from the bed. Alice watched him questionably, prepared to follow, but he pointed back to the bed, and so she stayed.

His footsteps faded, and the brunette listened warily- creaking heard from somewhere above, followed by more footsteps in the distance. After what felt like hours, though it was probably only about twenty minutes or so, the footsteps returned to her hallway and the mortician appeared with two worn boxes in his arms.

Alice said nothing as he set them on the ground in front of her- so as not to get her bed dirty- and opened them up; taking a deep breath as he spotted the stacks of worn and wrinkled letters stored before him.

Alice cautiously sat down next to him, watching as he poured the first box's contents on the floor; littering the plush carpet with withered envelopes. Julius held up one with its date up in the corner- the earliest of the bunch- and frowned grimly at it. Alice noticed his expression and frowned herself.

"I was hoping you wouldn't find out." the mortician confessed, brushing his thumb across the golden mark stamped into the back.

"What are they?" the queen asked slowly, staring at the pile of papers with her name scrawled in pure black ink on each one. There were several- she wasn't even sure if she could count them all.

"Letters… to you." Julius explained quietly, his nail playing with the wax on the back of the envelope in his hand until it neatly peeled off, containing a wrinkled, yellow-tinted paper inside.

"To me?" Alice questioned in surprised, gesturing a hand towards herself. Julius nodded.

"Before you were a queen." he replied, his eyes hiding behind his long navy bangs. Alice stared at him blankly. What did he mean 'before she was a queen'…? The way he said it… It made her sound like another creature before now. As if she hadn't been a nobody in this world- a past where she could have her memories. She had forgotten everything up until she was granted the pleasure of becoming her majesty. Did he know something of her past and was keeping it from her?

"Julius, what do you mean?" the brunette asked, her voice stern and determined; she wanted to know what he was talking about. What could he mean?

The mortician sighed, pulling out the paper from the envelope. He glared at it, as if it were demonic in his hands. Alice had never noticed such anger in her friend.

Julius huffed, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair before turning to Alice with a weak smile. "If there's anything you need, I'd get it now. This is going to take a while."

"I'm fine." Alice assured him, waving towards the letter. "Begin, please. I really want to know."

"Do you think you can handle it?" the mortician asked in a low voice; serious and stern. "Do you really think that whatever you hear, you'll be able to bare it? Even if it means discussing your past? You won't have any doubts at all?"

Alice thought for a moment, unnerved by the tone Julius was using. He seemed so… ominous. It frightened her. And yet, she yearned to know more.

Taking a deep breath, the woman nodded once; chin held high as she'd learned from Vivaldi to do when a queen is forced to make an important decision. For some reason it made her feel superior. "I want to know."

Julius analyzed her carefully and thoroughly, detecting no falsehoods in her eyes. Sighing, the mortician leaned back on the base of the queen's bed; holding up the first letter.

"This, Alice, is what happened… after you died."

**

* * *

Confusing? Maybe. I have the plot and everything worked out, but this might not get updated a lot. I want to try to finish Heartache and RMR, but RMR might not end for a while, and I still have at LEAST another 5-8 chapters in Heartache. **

**I don't know what made me write this, but I was listening to "Empty" by The Click Five and this came to mind. I originally wasn't going to write it because, well, I have so many other stories going on right now and I feel horrible for neglecting a few of them, but this kept eating at my brain and wouldn't let go until I got it down on paper. TToTT Might turn into an M- I'm really not sure; I doubt there'll be many if any sexual scenes in this, seeing as Alice is dead for most of it, but there could be some cussing words or just plain gore if I'm in the mood for adding something bloody, but it's most likely to stay a T. Hope you're liking it so far, and see you next chapter/story/whatever!**


	2. The Heart That Stopped Beating

**2. The Heart that Stopped Beating**

_1 Year, 3 Months, and 5 Days Prior_

* * *

No one was expecting it. _He _certainly wasn't. Who could dare suspect such things though? The life of a foreigner was hardly one to be worried for. They were loved by all, and Alice was the most precious outsider they've had yet. No one would think of hurting the dearest child; she was just too innocent to be capable of something so dark.

At least, that's what they'd thought.

* * *

He could only remember bits and pieces of the night. He'd come to the ball with Ace and she, that much he remembered. They'd gotten lost on the way, he was sure of it. Then the ballroom… Oh that ugly ballroom. Everything so bright and pink and polished; it put his messy tower to shame. Quite frankly, he didn't mind that; pink would be no where _near _his home… Unless Alice insisted upon it, of course.

Alice… She'd come up to him at some point. His vision wasn't quite blurred yet, so he remembered her fragile form suggesting a dance. He'd declined; why, he couldn't imagine, but he had, and what's done was done.

Ace… That's right. Damned bloody knight. He'd insisted on just another glass of wine. "One more glass" became two. Three. Four. Damned bastard knew he held his liquor like a child and wanted to rub it in his face. He wanted to kill that man.

What happened after that? Thinking hard, images of Ace dragging him out of the castle appeared in his mind, but it was all a blurry mess. Peter was there, too. What had he said again? Damn. Why couldn't he remember any of this?

Julius tried to sit upright as consciousness came over, but a headache decided to take the better of him and forced him back onto whatever substance he'd been lying on. Springs sounded underneath him, so he assumed it was a bed. Was it _his_ bed? Sure felt like it… but Alice always slept on his bed. Where was she? She didn't sleep on the couch, did she?

"Damn." the mortician grumbled, a throbbing pain breaking through to his thoughts and pushing him away from thinking. What he needed was some pills about now.

"HEY JULIUS!" Son of a bitch. Speak of the devil, and he shall come.

Ace burst loudly into the door; a wide, toothy grin displayed across his face. He wore his usually tattered brown cloak; splotches of seeping crimson splattered across the front and back. A few smudged stained his cheeks and dripped from his mask and hair, but that did not ruin the unnatural happiness the man held.

Julius moaned loudly, pulling the blankets over his head. Ace noticed his friend in pain and laughed, tossing his sack of broken clocks onto the man's desk before making his way to his friend; nudging him a little.

"Hey sleepyhead, wake up!" the knight said cheerily, pulling the blankets back. Julius flinched from the sudden chill, wishing for his blankets back. Now he knew what the damned caterpillar felt like when Gray insisted on paperwork.

"Ace, give me back the damned blankets." Julius hissed, trying to reach for the quilts, but Ace refused to give them up.

"Wow, you were really wasted last night." the knight commented, twirling the end of a quilt between his fingers. Julius snatched the blankets back then, curling comfortably under them, enjoying their warmth.

"It was your damned fault, bloody knight." the clockmaker hissed, pulling the blankets up further to his chin. "I told you I didn't want to drink."

Ace laughed carelessly, as if his friend had made a humorous joke. "Haha! I can't help it. You look so funny when you're sick."

"Tch. Shut up." the mortician mumbled, wishing for sleep. Normally he'd want to get right back to work- he could hear his clocks scolding him for being so irresponsible- but this headache was _killing _him. He'd get to the damned things later.

Ace shrugged, nestling down next to his friend. Julius winked an eye open to glare at his companion before muttering a few colorful words, choosing to ignore the knight and go back to sleep until this hangover let him be.

"Seriously, though. You need to get up." Ace said, brushing a gloved hand across Julius's forehead- causing a few droplets of red to dot his skin. Julius blushed, swatting his hand away.

"Why?" the clockmaker muttered, hoping to get this conversation done and over with. Why couldn't that bloody knight just leave already? !

Ace's voice was low and mischievous. It sounded as if he held a million secrets underneath. A false smirk was plastered on his face, providing an eerie atmosphere in the tower. "Her Majesty wants to see you."

"The Queen?" Mention of her highness only sent confusion to the mortician as he warily sat up, rubbing the side of his head. What lost him even more so was the way Ace said it. He'd never call Vivaldi "Her Majesty". It was always something such as "old hag" or "witch". What made this day any exception? "What does she want of me?"

Ace's face grew dark; deadly, even. His ominous crimson stare was the truth behind the bright mask he wore each day; it was the true man that felt no pain in killing and murder. The one who dare go behind his role and stripe Wonderland in red for the rules he followed to no one in particular. It was a rare occasion to see the true Ace; the russet-haired man behind the fake smiles and pleasant words. Something horrible happened; he just knew it. There was no denying that dangerous glow in the knight's eyes. But what could be so dreadful that the queen wanted him, and more so, Ace was showing his true colors?

"There's been a murder at the castle."

* * *

It took longer than what Julius wanted to get to the castle, mostly because of Ace. He should have known better than to follow that damned man's sense of direction. It could get him lost for days.

Ace's words still rang in his head. _"There's been a murder at the castle…" _So? What did that have to do with anything? Death was not uncommon in Wonderland. Rather, it was such a daily activity that no resident ever cared to bother themselves with its topic by much. Ace even took the liberty of causing most of the deaths in Wonderland. The darkness he shed in his words… Julius wanted nothing more than to understand the meaning behind them.

When Julius took the liberty of leading the way to the castle himself, he felt relieved to have escaped Hatter Territory- only lord knows how Ace stumbled into their land- with his head still on his shoulders. The men walked in silence through the rose garden, and Julius was surprised to see guards frowning almost sympathetically to the clockmaker when they arrived at the grand steps to the stone building.

"Good morning, Sir Ace and Sir Julius." many faceless greeted the knight and his companion on their way in, but the mortician had no time to start up conversations with them. He wanted to know what in bloody hell was going on.

Ace took the lead this time, taking Julius up the stairs where they met a very pacing and impatient prime minister.

Peter White walked back and forth from wall to wall, his crimson eyes glaring into the tiled floor beneath; a strange expression in his orbs. They were infuriated but grieving at the same time, as if he couldn't make up his mind on what he felt more. His white rabbit ears were pressed firmly against his messy mop of snowy hair, and red dress shoes tapped noisily against the ground with each step. Julius had never seen him so… distressed.

At the sound of the incomers, Peter whipped out his gun and aimed it at the two, shooting two bullets without a second thought. Ace pulled out his sword, deflecting the weapons immediately. Julius's eyebrows knitted together unsurely. Sure, they argued, but normally Ace had to provoke him to make the prime minister shoot.

"Damned knight." Peter seethed through gritted teeth, his gloved hands clenching and unclenching around the gun, almost prepared to shoot again. "You should have stopped it! That's your f****** role!"

"Another reason to hate it." the knight replied, brushing past the rabbit-man rather violently. Peter gritted his teeth, shooting again. It missed, and Ace glanced at Julius over his shoulder, noticing his friend in place. "Coming?"

The mortician nodded, quickly keeping pace with the knight. As they continued down the hall, more and more guards appeared, whispering about something the clockmaker couldn't make out.

_I don't understand it. _the navy-haired man thought; puzzled. _The queen summons me, Ace is a jackass- well, more so than usual-, the damned rabbit is trying to shoot us for walking… What the hell is going on here?_

Vivaldi appeared among the crowd; her curly violet locks and bright red ball gown separating herself from the servants. Her gaze was cruel and unkind; proper but discouraged. She appeared as if she wanted more than to see just the hall of faceless' heads roll. Even if all blood had drained from Wonderland, she would not be satisfied. Hell would freeze over before she had enough beheadings.

"Clockmaker." the queen addressed Julius, holding her chin high as she spoke. The navy-haired man separated himself from Ace's side and walked to the queen, wishing she wasn't so loud; he still had a partial throb from his hangover.

"Yes?" he asked, unsure whether to be concerned or annoyed. Vivaldi wasn't particularly the choice of many in Wonderland. Her lust for blood seemed as if it would satisfy Ace, but even the knight rejected the woman. It was truly a pity.

"You are experienced in deaths and ceremonies for such, are you not?" the queen demanded gravely. The man nodded, not entirely sure what she meant. What did she want with a funeral…? Roles were always replaced, so what was the need of one? The woman sighed, stepping aside. "Very well. We need you to prepare a body for us."

When the queen stepped away from the body, she might as well have smashed his clock out of his chest right then and there. She could have trampled all over him and sent even Ace to fight against the mortician, but the pain would not be enough to match the burning sensation of hate, sorrow, and shock he held when the body was revealed.

A doll ever so fragile- skin whiter than Peter's- sprawled across the tiled floor, streaks of red dried from oozing out of her skin. Brunette locks that the sun kissed its' rays upon now ratty and ruined with stains of the bloody color. Her ball gown- such a gown he'd picked out himself to suit her ever so angelic features- ripped by bullet holes and stained in crimson. Teal eyes wide and lifeless; emotionless.

Alice. Miss Alice Liddell, beaten on the tiled floor; her blood creating ill-suited patterns at their feet. Her life taken; her body bruised and tortured. Julius couldn't believe it at first. How? Just _how? _Who would ever think of doing such wretched things to this beautiful woman? ! How could they live with themselves? Who the hell did it? !

Marks of rough hands rimmed around her wrists and neck. The monster held onto her; tortured her before shooting bullets from his impatience with her death.

Her nails; bloodied. She'd struggled. His poor, defenseless Alice struggled against this beast and lost her battle.

Her lips; parted in horror. She'd tried to scream. She was too far- just too far from the party. The music was too loud. No one was around to hear her shrill cries. Maybe they didn't even escape her throat in time.

The mortician was numb. He didn't move because he couldn't. He didn't dare speak because he was speechless. What could he say? The gentle, careful foreigner that had lived with him since her departure from reality had now been mauled and broken in a heap on the floor before his eyes. She would never breathe or smile again; her eyes never to shimmer, her voice never to sooth his worries unintentionally. She would never glide down the stone steps to his tower again, nor prepare that wretched coffee that he'd fooled himself into enjoying just for her.

More over, he could never say the words he so much restrained himself from blurting out to her.

The clockmaker's face was blank as he leaned down, brushing bits of brunette locks from her forehead; cobalt eyes narrowing in anger at the stained blood beneath. The mortician was abrupt to stand up again, turning towards the queen.

"Who did this?" his voice only detected a small amount of the anger he was restraining inside, coming off cold and heartless. Ace watched his friend curiously, a blank expression on his face.

Vivaldi looked away in irritation, glaring at the wall from the side as she replied, "We're already taking care of the matter, so you need not worry."

"I just want to know who did it." Julius urged, eyes narrowing at the woman. He was in no mood for the queen's games. Vivaldi remained silent, and this irritated the clockmaker. "I just need a name."

A tense silence hovered in an invisible pressure down the hall, servants either waiting for an argument from the mortician or the voice of the queen. Eventually, Vivaldi sighed, closing her eyes as she looked away, deciding to break this awkward tension.

"We will sent some guards to take the young lady to your place. Have her prepared." the queen said, flashing a small, violet-eyed glance at the man. Her eyes were glassy, as if she were holding back tears. She immediately looked away from the clockmaker, refusing to make eye contact.

Julius was quiet for a moment- analyzing the brief downfall of the queen's calm and collected surface- but nodded solemnly. "Have her brought to the tower this evening."

Silence echoed the halls as the mortician turned away from the blood-splattered body and the witnesses surrounding it, striding down the hall. His footsteps tapped almost noiselessly against the tile as he moved, and he did not dare glance behind him.

Alice was dead. It was a fact that could not be denied or undone now. Her life was stolen with ever staggered breath during her beating, and every splash of red that defied the rules and painted itself across her ghostly skin. He had seen the body; seen her deprived soul.

He just needed to know who did it. And when he found out… Oh, when he found out…

There would certainly be hell to pay, he could promise you that.

**

* * *

I know this is confusing, but you should all understand within the chapters. ^^; I wasn't going to update this for a while, but I had this done before the chapter fanfic chapters, so fff. Enjoy. XD**


	3. Preparations for a Funeral

**3. Preparations for a Funeral**

He almost couldn't believe it. She was still dead, was she not? If so, then why did she still look so beautiful?

Her pale skin, naked and stitched from bullet holes in her chest, lay still and graceful on the long steel bed he'd purchased to prepare her body. Eyes were closed, hiding the lifelessness beneath. Brunette locks once caked in crimson ooze now washed and conditioned; laying ever to peacefully beneath her, shining under the dim lights above. Her mouth no longer gaped in horror, but were pressed gently together in a little line; lips light pink and plump, but petite and fragile at the same time. He averted his gaze when he caught himself staring.

How could a corpse be so horribly gorgeous? She was certainly not the treasure he'd discovered when she was living and breathing, but there was no mistaking that her sheer beauty remained even after death. It was painful preparing such a wonderful girl for the worst event she could ever attend.

Her funeral.

Not to mention awkward as well. Julius had lost count of the times his face spread in a wild blush and he averted his eyes from the corpse while trying to strip off her clothing and remove the bullets. It mattered not if she was dead or alive; her body still sent him fretting like a mother hen. He had to stay concentrated, though, to stitch her back up right. He wouldn't dare make a mistake on her fragile form.

He didn't remove her organs- no, he didn't have the heart to cut her up like a pound of meaty flesh. What use did they have of her internals, anyway? Their bodies- their souls- worked differently than foreigners. They simply disappeared when death came- awaiting a replacement while their clocks got fixed. Foreigners were irreplaceable.

It was something he was reminded of now; the mortician's fingertips brushing across a small, circular scar that he'd had to repair just beneath one of her breasts. It was cold under his touch; as if to taunt him. He could not feel her thumping heart, and the navy-haired man glared, removing his hand from her form before making his way to a stack of black fabric resting across his desk.

His clocks had been neglected today- a rare, almost impossible act for the clockmaker- and tossed to the side, making room in his small office for the several black gowns to rest on his oak desk. They were all different- some short and lolli-like, some long and flowing. Some made of silk, while others of satin. Some with sleeves, some strapless. Some wide, some narrow. Each gown had its own individual feel to it, each having been prepared and delivered from maids of Clover Tower on behalf of Nightmare and Gray. It was probably the only work that damned incubus ever did.

Julius analyzed the gowns, repeatedly glancing between Alice and the fabrics, debating which would suit her appropriately. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the few that seemed outlandish and certainly not funeral material, while his expression saddened at the ones that did.

With a deep, heavy sigh, the mortician picked up one that had itself draped over his chair and brought it towards the corpse; holding it out as if she could see it. Long but narrow, if she would've been standing up and wearing it, a long trail of black silk would have followed her every step. It was the type of gown that would fly about if you spun, but fit securely to your figure when you stopped. Only one strap was provided- hanging broadly around where the left shoulder was to be placed and spinning around to meet the back. A false black rose was pinned to the shoulder with a small gray ribbon resting below it. The gown was creased in several folds, and a pair of black gloves were tucked underneath the large bow at the waist to place on later.

"Does this seem suitable?" he asked out loud, as if speaking to the woman. Silence answered him, and Julius frowned, unhooking the gown from its hanger and laying it overtop the corpse, smiling sadly at the way it brought out her delicate features. "I suppose it will have to do."

Here was the hard part. Julius stepped behind the woman at her head, hooking his arms underneath hers to lift the woman up. He struggled a few times, trying to have her sit upright for him only to fall back down on the table. She was so lightweight and tiny that his job was made a little easier, but trying to place a down on a person that was unable to cooperate was rather difficult.

"Damn." the mortician huffed in frustration, nestling her body back onto the table, for the gown had fallen on the ground. "This just isn't going to work."

Sighing, Julius clapped his hands twice, and the room went dark for a brief moment before a flash of white broke the darkness and brought back the scene before him. He nodded solemnly at the corpse of his dear friend, satisfied that he'd at least gotten her into a dress and shoes without struggle.

Now another problem. The make-up. Being a mortician of _Wonderland,_ Julius never had any need to paint a corpse's face, nor did he want to. But for Alice… though she looked beautiful without even the slightest drop of lipgloss, he wanted to make her exactly how he saw her.

Nothing less than extravagant.

Taking a few sticks of lipgloss he'd picked up at the store- a store he would _never go in again_ after the giggling from the cashiers- Julius matched them each up to the brunette, debating between a bright, vivid red and a smooth, almost skin-like color. Choosing the natural color, he caressed the brush against her lips, painting the color overtop. Next came the mascara; bold and black, allowing her lashes to stretch welcomingly towards him. Then, the blush; a light pink dotted gently across her cheeks, barely noticeable- adding that touch of color she needed.

Finally, the roses. One vivid and white; pure, just like the woman he worked on. The petals wide but gentle, much like her welcoming arms. The second cold and blue; its bright color bouncing out against the darkness of her clothes. Wilting just a little, grieving with he and all of Wonderland. The roses were placed delicately underneath her palms; resting on top of her breasts.

There. Completed.

Julius sighed heavily, caressing her cold cheek with the back of his rough, overworked fingers. Even in death, she felt so soft beneath him. He didn't have to worry about rejection, for she had no heartbeat to reject him with.

"Hey, Juliet!"

"Ace." Julius deadpanned in annoyance, quickly removing his hand from Alice's cheek to turn and glare at his friend. Ace's wide, goofy grin remained plastered on his face despite the corpse in his presence, her lifeless chill not bothersome to him as he set his usual crimson-dripping sack of clocks next to Julius's desk, making sure not to set it on top of the dresses nearby.

"Wow, you made her look hot!" the knight complimented, eagerly at Alice's side; crimson eyes running hungrily down her body. "If she wasn't dead, I'd do her."

"Ace!" Julius hissed through gritted teeth, glaring coldly at his companion.

"What? You think I should do her anyways?" Ace asked innocently, earning a book thrown to the side of his face. "Ow! That's harsh, Julius."

"You're so crude." the mortician snapped before making his way to his desk; heaving the dresses onto his arms so he could discard them properly- right into the fireplace. There's no way he was keeping funeral gowns around; they were only reminders of the corpse a few feet away.

Ace laughed carelessly, slinging an arm over his friend's rigid shoulders, ignoring the cobalt glare that was send his way. "Is Julius upset over Alice's death?"

"Tch." Julius blushed lightly, looking away. Ace laughed again.

"Ah, so Julius _is _upset! Definitely not as upset as Mr. Peter, though." Ace stood up, pulling a hand to his chin. "You know, it seems like everyone's upset over Alice's death. It's so strange… I've never seen so many people sad before."

"And you aren't?" Julius snapped, turning to face the male brunette coldly. Ace merely smiled silently in response, tilting his head to the side; dropping his arm and making his way back to Alice.

"She was something, wasn't she?" the knight mused, his gloved fingertips caressing the maiden's cheek; a little disappointed when she did not blush. "She really changed everyone. I'm not sure I know anyone here anymore."

Julius appeared on the other side of Alice's body, looking down at the corpse longingly. "She did."

Silence enveloped the three of them. A clockmaker. A knight. And a corpse so loved, she could only cause distraught from then on. This was how things were; how they could only be from now on.

* * *

The funeral was bitter. Perhaps because it was the first Wonderland ever had. Maybe because it was for Alice. Who could say, really? Were funerals always this sour; distasteful? Did they usually come with alien tears and unearthly sobs from the most rigid of role holders?

Hmph. He supposed it didn't matter. Alice was dead, and these were the consequences.

The mortician had never seen Wonderland in such mourning. It was as if he'd stepped into a parallel dimension. It didn't even feel real. Had Nightmare sent him an illusion? A cruel dream that he couldn't break from? Was this all just imaginary thoughts conjured up for a heartless laugh from the incubus?

No. This was all very real. It may not feel as such, but he knew there was no reality beyond this. Not even Alice's own home could be as real as this moment; this period of time that remained dark over the role holders.

They'd used a church in the Country of Clover for this occasion. The time had changed specifically to April Season for this occasion; a moment where all the role holders could gather together and mourn the loss of their friend.

The Amusement Park duo sat in one of the front pews; Gowland's head shaking in disbelief and shame, while Boris's frame shook violently from anger and desperation. He was unable to save her, and he regretted it. But how could he have even known something was to happen? He couldn't have. His regret was worthless, but not uncommon. Many role holders thought the same- even the clockmaker himself. They couldn't have done anything to stop it, but regret was stronger than this realization.

The Hatter Mafia sat quietly across the pews, each role holder in their own thoughts. Blood seemed exceptionally bitter, his expression sullen.

Elliot's ears were flattened sadly against his wavy orange locks, sadness etching his features as he watched the corpse lay stilly across from him.

Dee and Dum gave pouts of mixed emotions; annoyance, irritation, and grief all displayed across the children's faces. It had not been long before the funeral that they were demanding their boss to know who'd murdered their "precious onee-chan", but Blood was too irritated to reply.

Pierce- having never given the chance to meet the foreigner- kept pestering the others with questions. Who was she. Why was everyone so sad. Why were they there. The attendees had half a mind to lock the curious boy out of the damned church if he kept up his talking.

Those residing in Heart Castle sat behind the mafia; Vivaldi's face scrunched up oddly. She tried to keep her face composed, attempting to keep her strong exterior from exposing the waterfalls of tears that collided inside. It wasn't working very well, for the king kept having to hand her boxes of light pink tissues and take her outside for personal moments.

Ace's face was blank- almost bored- as he sat at the edge of the pew, watching the makeshift priest babble on, probably unaware of half the things he was saying in the first place.

Peter wasn't sure whether to sob or shout in anguish. It felt like his world was completely crashing down on him. The one he loved so dearly- would do anything for, even if it meant murder to himself- had been killed in his own _home_, and nothing was done except people attired in black and a small speech of loss from someone who'd never shared the decency of acquainting with the girl. Tears slid down his albino face, but not even he was sure if they were from sorrow, infuriation, or both. Perhaps it was neither, but a new emotion entirely. He'd never felt this way before. Despite the irony, death looked rather beautiful compared to this aching in his clock.

Nightmare sat at the edge of the front pew; arms stretching across the wooden seat and legs crossed, wishing he could get this over with already. It was too depressing for his tastes. He hated seeing his dear foreign friend reduced to such a spectacle. He was sure she wouldn't want this; mourning over her death. She'd want them all to move on and take care of themselves. Oh, how little she knew of her own affect on Wonderland.

The incubus's subordinate stood in front of the church, acting as priest for the affair. It was a rather difficult job, for he'd never even met the woman lying restlessly in the casket beside him. She did look beautiful, though. Rather gorgeous. From what Nightmare had explained, she was such a wonderful girl… It was a real shame he'd never get the chance to befriend her.

Even the untrustworthy Joker had appeared- too interested in the commotion taking place around town to not have a glance at the scene. He sat alone in the middle of the church; his head tilted in curiosity and disappointment at the foreigner ahead. "Such a shame," he'd said earlier, "to have the young miss die so suddenly. I'd never had the pleasure of introducing myself."

"_F****** bitch must've been stupid like all f*** to die already."_ the small mask had agreed before stepping into the church, ignored to the others.

Then there was the clockmaker. Quiet and subtle, hardly acknowledged by those around him. He sat in pure silence at the very back of the church, clicking his tongue in annoyance whenever someone would step out to sob outside rather than having the decency to sit throughout the service indoors.

He did not cry like the rest, but rather displayed depression on his features. He looked pained; strained. It wouldn't have mattered if he cried or not, though. No one would have noticed. He appeared invisible to the others, just as others appeared invisible to them. The only object in their sight was Alice.

Poor, defenseless Alice. Her corpse- face painted, body attired- laid in the soft, satin cushions of a long, shined black casket. Too pale, was her skin. Too lifeless, was her body. How they- how _he_- longed to hear the unnatural thumping of her heart. How he desired to see her flushed face; smell her disgusting but tolerable coffee in the morning.

Nothing would be the same without Alice.

The service carried on uncomfortably, but much like those on Earth. The priest spoke. There were moments of silence. Each role holder strode up to the corpse, whispering their soft goodbyes and touching her cold skin one last time before walking away with a heavy heart. A few even broke down at her corpse and had to be dragged away- specifically the prime minister. He wasn't punished, of course. No one had the heart to punish the man that displayed their emotions to the core.

Julius was the last to stand in front of her body; his rough hands brushing along her arm, caressing her cheek. All that was left in the church were those in Clover Tower- both men in the back, putting things away- so it mattered not if anyone saw him lean over for the briefest of moments and caress her lips with his gently and quickly.

"Alice…" he murmured, unable to draw his eyes away from her. It tore him apart inside. He couldn't stand to see her like this.

"Clockmaker." Nightmare's voice was unusually sympathetic as he addressed the mortician, frowning at the navy-haired man. He didn't have to read his thoughts to know how torn up the man was, but he did so anyways.

Julius turned slowly, his eyes narrowing at the incubus. "What is it?" "We're going to take A- _her_ to the grave now." the silver-haired man said lowly, attempting to not say the foreigner's name. It felt strange to use "Alice" and "grave" in the same sentence.

Julius nodded solemnly, returning his attention to the outsider in the casket. Her death seemed to taunt him. "I'll help you carry her."

Nightmare nodded, waving for Gray to come over and help heave up the casket. There was no way such a weak man as the incubus could carry that heavy thing.

Julius and Gray got on either side of the black box; Julius's navy eyes locked on the black box before them. He sighed, gently touching the lid.

"Goodnight, Alice." he whispered before closing the casket shut with everyone's favorite foreigner inside.

**

* * *

I feel I got Nightmare OOC. ;~; I hope I didn't. DX**

**Confused, are you? Good. XD This is supposed to be confusing. I wanted to try something outside of my cliché, Alice-goes-out-and-does-something-random-and-it-ends-with-plotless-fan service stories. XD I MUST CHALLENGE MYSELF! XD**

**Fff yeah. Right. XD We'll see how that goes.**


	4. Dear Alice

**4. Dear Alice**

Were things at the Clock Tower always this eerie and quiet before Alice arrived? It almost seemed unnatural now. Only last week she had been smiling and laughing, filling the lonely stone building with her lively speech.

Not anymore.

The Clock Tower seemed to have transformed completely. Dim lamps illuminated a golden glow around the darkened office of the lone mortician; shadows extracting across the walls, and silver instruments barely making themselves known. Broken clocks were now fixed and nestled in their cardboard boxes, waiting for their final member to join them.

Julius sat at his desk, concentrating on the tools in his hand. The springs of the clock before him were all out of order, the blood in the way! He would have to pull an all nighter to get this monster done.

Sighing without glancing up, Julius asked, "Alice, could you go make some coff-"

His voice cut off as silence answered him, forever remaining his only companion. The mortician lifted his head slowly, as if he would see the brunette sitting at his side per usual.

She wasn't, and the reality hit him stone cold.

A sudden pressure seemed to loom over the mortician; unnatural, foreign twinges at his clock, and a grieving sadness filled the room in an invisible fog. Julius cautiously put his clock down; hiding his face in his palms.

How was he supposed to get through this? How was it possible that he'd survived without her there? Time was sure to heal his wounds, that's what they say. Ah, but they know nothing of time! Time was grieving right before them like a child; mourning the loss of his foreigner! He could change the time as much as he wanted, but it would change nothing. Not even Time himself could bring back Alice.

A dark, lonesome silence filled the tower. He wasn't sure what time it was or when the door opened. All he knew was that a shadow had displayed itself in front of him, proving he had a guest.

Ace stepped in, a large, childish grin spread across his face as he tossed off his cape and plopped down into the chair Alice usually rested in; kicking back so his feet rested on the edge of the desk. "Hey, Juliet!"

Julius didn't reply; he simply remained in a daze, thinking…

Ace rose an eyebrow at his friend, a little disappointed to have not received a scowl or growl of annoyance. Trying again, he said, "Yo, Juliet! Anyone home~? Hello~!"

Julius sighed as Ace waved a gloved hand in front of his face, trying to earn his attention. The mortician's words were low, almost depressed. "What is it, Ace?"

The brunette frowned, not enjoying his pal's tone. "What's got you down, grumpy gills? Getting tired of all those clocks yet?"

Julius turned away, his mind wandering. Ace's eyebrows pushed together, noticing his silence. It felt awkward and unusual.

After a moment of tense silence, Ace nodded, awing to himself in understanding. "You're still upset about Alice, aren't you?"

Julius flinched at her name, proving the knight correct. Of course, he denied it.

"Not at all."

"Then say her name. Come on, just once." the knight insisted, leaning forward with his trademark devilish grin. Julius glared, opening his mouth to speak, but closing it again, unable to. He repeated this motion, looking like a fish before finally giving up with a sigh. Ace laughed. "See? You're still sad. Even after it's been a week…"

Julius's teeth clamped shut with an audible snap; his cobalt orb straying to other objects, pretending they could catch his attention. Ace raised an eyebrow, smirking sadly at his friend. "See what I mean?"

"Ace, don't you have anything better to do? I'm busy." the clockmaker hissed with a frustrated sigh, glancing back down at the clock in his hands.

"Looks like you're just about done to me." the knight countered, scarlet eyes resting on the cardboard box full of fixed clocks not too far away. The amount he completed in the week was surprising; he was working much faster than usual.

"Ace, leave." Julius ordered, though his tone wasn't as irritated as usual. It seemed more exhausted; as if his age had caught up to him. The mortician arose slowly from his chair; using a nearby cloth to wipe off any oil that had dare ruin his spectacles.

The knight smirked as he plopped his feet back down on to the ground; standing up as well. "You know, you could always do what Mr. Peter does."

Julius rose an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"He writes a letter to Alice." the knight explained, shrugging, as if he were speaking of a person that had lost their mind. "Every day. Then he burns it up."

"Why?" Julius seemed baffled by such an idea. Ace shrugged once more.

"Who knows? He just does." the knight replied simply, pulling his cape back over his shoulders as he made his way towards the door. He smirked a little. "Guess it eases the pain. I don't see how writing to a dead person is any help, though. Bye, Julius. See you tomorrow."

The clockmaker waited until the final click of the clock tower lock had sounded before he sad back down in his chair uneasily, frowning at his desk. Ah! The clock! He still had to fix the bugger.

The mortician picked up his silver instruments, staring at the clock before him. His worn tools hovered over the object, not making any action. Shouldn't he be working on this clock? Why was he pausing so?

Ace's words echoed through his mind, poking at him. _"He writes a letter to Alice…" _What use would that be? She was dead. It was only a waste of paper and ink. It wasn't as if she could ever read them, anyways. What an idea! Simply absurd!

"Simply absurd…" Julius repeated aloud, though his voice contained weakness as his cobalt eyes lowered towards a neglected drawer in his desk. It seemed to call out to him. Julius shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning his attention back to the clock.

_I don't have time to waste on such silly things! My work needs me! _the clockmaker thought, his eyebrows pushing together in frustration as he leaned towards the clock, prodding it with his tools.

It wasn't long before he paused again, his gaze straying towards the drawer. His lips pressed together in a firm line of concentration, inwardly debating. It seemed as if a long amount of time had passed between he and the drawer; a pretend stare down occurring.

Julius sighed, shifting his eyes from side to side, as if expecting somebody to be there. With one final huff, the mortician pulled open the drawer, pulling out an pile of looseleaf paper and a pen. He set his clock aside, resting the paper before him. He held up the pen, allowing it to hover overtop the paper.

He sat like this for quite some time. His pen hovered over the blank pages, refusing to write. What could he say? What did he want to tell her?

The mortician groaned, tossing the paper off of his desk messily and flinging his pen over his shoulder; hunching forward so his hands gripped his head in distress. This was stupid. So completely idiotic! Alice would never read these, so what was the point? He was only fooling himself. These letters would be useless.

Julius sighed, peering at the mess he made. Several yellow pieces of paper were strewn across his office; the pen leaving a long ink mark along his wall. He frowned, arising from his chair to clean up this mess. He stacked the paper back on his desk, setting the pen down next to it. He sat back down uneasily, staring at the blank pages.

…_What the hell. _he thought carelessly, picking up the pen again and beginning the date of the letter. He paused when it came to the greeting. What could he write? What _should _he write? What did he have to say? Not much had happened since her death. It was strangely quiet in Wonderland- Blood and Gowland had even put their quarrels on a slight hold. No one had the heart for anything anymore. Things weren't right without her there.

That's it.

The mortician's eyebrows scrunched together as he began to scrawl on the page, discussing trivial things alongside the important ones, as if she were there. When he'd finished the letter with his elegant signature, Julius stared at the page, rereading it. He wasn't sure what he felt; writing to a corpse. It was very strange.

His eyes strayed to the nearby fireplace, folding the letter in three long columns before heading over to the blazing flame. The lick of orange seemed intimidating to him. He was supposed to burn this letter now- let the paper slowly turn to ash.

He held up the yellow page, preparing to throw it in, but remained still. He glanced in confusion at the page, trying again. It still did not fall to its death. Julius frowned, his lips pressing into a firm line.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't burn the page up. He didn't _want_ to burn it up.

Turning away from the deadly flame, Julius made his way towards his desk drawer, pulling out a long white envelope. He slid the letter in, licking it shut. He quickly wrote "ALICE" on the front, frowning once at the letter before tossing it into an empty drawer underneath.

* * *

Julius finished his clock rather quickly after that- glad to have found the parts he needed around the tower rather than forced to go out buying them. When he was done, the mortician glanced once more at the drawer before walking to his bed; changing into his pajamas and crawling underneath the blankets.

It felt weird sleeping in his bed. He had grown so accustomed to resting on the couch or somewhere else while Alice used his source of sleep. The mortician frowned up at the ceiling, unable to get accustomed to the mattress once again.

With a heavy sigh, he picked up the pillows and blankets from the bed; carrying them to the couch. He made himself a makeshift bed and plopped down; feeling better as he crawled underneath the blankets, preparing for sleep.

"Goodnight, Alice…" he whispered before falling to slumber.

* * *

There, in the dark and lonely drawer of the clockmaker's desk, was the first letter. To say it was the true beginning would be a lie, but it was the beginning of something to branch out that was much larger than any could imagine.

_

* * *

Dear Alice,_

_A week has passed since your death. It's hard to imagine that you won't be around anymore. Who will make me coffee, you silly woman? I haven't taken a sip of the stuff since you've left. I'm going through withdrawals._

_The other role holders haven't taken your death lightly. Peter is on a scavenger hunt for your murderer. All the maids and soldiers at Heart Castle had to be replaced. Twice. It's a tiring job, as you should know. I haven't gotten much sleep over the work they've pushed on me._

_Your cat friend and those twin demons came by yesterday. They wanted something to remember you by. Rather ridiculous, coming to my tower for your things. All your items are kept where you left them. _

_I… _

_I suppose that's it. I hope you're happy, wherever you are._

_- Julius M._

* * *

…**I had no idea what to put in the letter. B| I feel I might've gotten Julius OOC. |||OTL**

**Next updated should either be CoC or Knightmares. RMR will probably be last, depending on when I start GoF.**


End file.
